


Pants

by yeaka



Category: Red Riding Hood (2011)
Genre: F/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21773281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: They get dressed.
Relationships: Peter/Valerie (Red Riding Hood)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Pants

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Red Riding Hood or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Peter should really be the first to recover—she might have wolf blood in her veins, but he’s the _werewolf_ —the one whose stamina should outclass every other human alive. But somehow, he’s left still spent and breathing hard, while Valerie rises up in bed and starts re-braiding her hair. 

He watches her gorgeous figure in the moonlight, a few stray blonde strands clinging to the sweat along her back. Her fingers move with deft skill, her hoarse voice humming softly. She finger-combs through what’s left undone when she’s finished tying the braids together, and then she’s turning and tossing her long legs over the edge, bending down to collect their discarded clothes. 

He watches her stand up and into his trousers. Peter’s brow furrows as she hikes them up around her waist, drawing his belt impossibly tight to make them stay up her slender hips. He mumbles tiredly, “What’re you doing?”

“Getting dressed,” Valerie chimes, reaching down and plucking up his tunic. She turns to smile at him as she pulls it down over her head—it hangs off her, much too big, sloping down her rounded shoulders but stretched tight across her breasts. He understands her better than anyone, and yet he’ll never _fully_ understand her.

“Then what am _I_ supposed to wear?”

Valerie’s grin grows. That’s how he knows this was no mistake. She ducks down without taking her eyes off him. When she rises again, she’s holding her blue dress—his favourite of all her clothes. 

She tosses it over to him. It lands across his naked stomach. He snorts, but her smile doesn’t falter. 

He grins back and meets her dare. He sits up enough to tug it over his head, and if he hadn’t undone the corset stitching earlier to get it off her, he wouldn’t be able to fit into it at all. It hangs off of him, as poorly fit as his clothes are on her. The skirt fans out across his lap, wrinkled and all wrong. He asks, “Is this what you wanted?”

Valerie stalks forward. She climbs back onto the bed, moving on all fours. She shoves him down by the chest. 

She straddles his lap, and Peter gets his answer.


End file.
